


The World According to Dani Bender

by YoMamaofDragons



Series: We All Gotta Grow Up Sometime [2]
Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoMamaofDragons/pseuds/YoMamaofDragons
Summary: Based off of "We All Gotta Grow Up Sometime". Progeny of a Princess and a Criminal is (mostly) all growed up.
Relationships: Andrew Clark/Allison Reynolds, Brian Johnson/Original Female Character(s), John Bender/Claire Standish
Series: We All Gotta Grow Up Sometime [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889986
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	The World According to Dani Bender

**Author's Note:**

> Bridge fic between the first and the prequel I promised. Just a quick one-shot. Probably won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read "We All Gotta Grow Up Sometime" lols

2005:

September 29, 2005 started out rather uneventful for Danielle “Dani” Jane Bender. 

Or, she guessed, as “uneventful” as things got in her house. Which, on the “eventful” scale, between 1 and 10…eh, averaged around a 7ish. 

With her family, she had kinda grown used to the chaos. 

Her junior year at Shermer High School, her most favorite place (and her parents’ most favorite place, from all that they said…and laughed about, especially when they dropped her off or came ‘round for PTA meetings), just commenced, she was starting to feel a bit more seniority at that hellhole, she had awesome friends who got her through the day, her GPA was decent, she’d never even gotten a single Saturday!

Ahm. Until today. 

Sigh. It was all Bobby Ridgeway’s fault! Stupid Bobby Ridgeway and his stupid crewcut and that stupid braying laugh of his. Like a damn donkey.

That morning, Dani’s eyes popped open at 6:45 exactly, as she had trained her body to do before her ridiculous Garfield alarm clock could do so for her, effectively scaring the crap out of her by crowing at top decibel “WAKE UP! TIME TO WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD!” She kept trying to throw it out, but somehow, her dad would find wherever she managed to toss it and put the thing right back here on her bedside table, usually with an accompanying note scribbled in his bold scrawl: ‘CAN’T GET RID OF ME THAT EASILY! MUAHAHA!’ 

Swinging her legs out of bed, Dani rolled her light brown eyes to her hairline, the mass of which was pulled back in a haphazard bun she habitually wore to bed. Perched on the edge of the twin bed, the salmon-colored duvet hanging listlessly off the side, Dani lethargically pressed the “sleep” button on the alarm clock’s plastic ear, yawned, then zeroed her gaze across the room where her younger sister still lay snoring away—literally; she’d inherited their father’s, ahem, “ability”—sea of dark blonde hair spilling over her pillow and red-painted toes hanging off the end of the bed. 

Eyes going half-mast, Dani hurled her old childhood toy dragon at her. MacLaine bounced off the side of her sister’s head, causing her to shoot up in bed and then fall to a heap of flailing arms and legs to the floor. 

“Ah!” Kelly Anne Bender cried as she slipped and fell face-first on top of the “Friends” throw-rug. With all the pent-up annoyance of her twelve years, she pushed her hair back from her face and sneered. To Dani, it was an unbelievably familiar sneer. “Thanks a lot, you psycho!” 

Shrugging, Dani rose from the edge of the bed and stretched in the extra-long baseball tee she’d worn to sleep. “Time for school.”

“You could’ve just woken me like a *normal* person! God, you’re *such* a psycho!”

Ignoring her, Dani crossed to their shared wicker dresser, indolently pulled out the usual fare—bra, socks, embarrassing Minnie Mouse-themed underwear, slightly frayed flared jeans, a white camisole, and a forest green Henley from Hollister—got dressed, stuffed her feet inside a pair of sneakers, ran a brush through her mess of wavy auburn hair, and spent the next ten minutes standing outside the bathroom, hollering and banging for Kelly to hurry the hell up already. Business as usual. 

Out one of the other bedrooms, the one directly beside the bathroom, Kelly’s twin, Chris, traversed the narrow hallway that connected the bedrooms and single bathroom—aside from the one in their parents’ room—and came to a tired halt beside Dani, arms folded over his Ninja Turtles sleep shirt. One corner of his mouth quirked at the corner. He took after their mother in looks—the red hair, the freckles, the ivory skin—but his demeanor was all their dad. “You should know by now that antagonizing her will only make her stay in there longer.” 

Huffing and rolling her eyes, Dani tapped her sneakered foot against the doorjamb. “I know! She’s just doing it to aggravate me. She can do her frigging makeup in our room. There’s a vanity, for Pete’s sake!” And she wasn’t only talking about Pete, their dad’s pet ball python, who inhabited a habitat in their parents’ room.

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened. Completely dressed and smiling phonily, Kelly brushed past her siblings in a cloud of Bath and Body Works Coconut Lime Verbena. Dani threw her arms up in annoyance. Chris merely cackled and trod downstairs. 

After she brushed her teeth and made use of the toilet—too late to shower—put on deodorant, all that good stuff, she followed her brother downstairs to the Benders’ chaotic kitchen/dining room area. Also as usual, her mother was there in the midst of it all, on her feet with a kid in one arm and another pawing at her skirts, chirping into the phone in a barely contained tone of voice and flipping slightly burnt pancakes with her free hand. 

“No, we don’t need one,” Claire Bender, Dani’s mother, was saying, setting her youngest on her feet. Judging by the noticeable lines of tension in her forehead, she suspected that her mom was talking to her grandmother. And not her favorite grandmother, either. “I’m *positive*, Mother. We do not require a personal chef. Yes, I’m sure Chef Francesco’s cousin is very talented. But we’re doing fine here. Yes, yes, we’ll see you this weekend. Goodbye, Mother.” *Click* “Ugh. Sometimes, she drives me nuts.” 

Dani didn’t bother to hold in her snicker. They weren’t really *that* kind of family, hiding their true feelings from each other. And everyone knew the other considered Nora to be a bit off her rocker, anyway. 

Dani quirked one auburn brow whilst she pulled open the fridge, reaching for the container of yogurt she had every morning. “’Sometimes’?” 

Mom whacked her with an oven mitt. “Oh, be quiet. Pancakes are almost ready.”

Peering inside the skillet, Dani flattened her lips. Her mom had gotten a wee bit better at cooking over the years, but when she was carrying a bun in the oven, she wasn’t much at the actual oven. 

Yep, another one. 

Dani knew that her parents had had her fairly young, at 21, 22. That she wasn’t exactly *planned*. Indeed, none of her siblings really had been. One would think, that after the “little mistake” of, eh, *her*, they’d have taken extra precautions or something but nope. Quickly trailing Dani’s unexpected arrival followed twins Christian and Kelly (Christian after her mother’s favorite designer, Christian Dior; Kelly after Kelly Bundy from “Married With Children”, anyone familiar with Dani’s parents could tell who named who) when Dani herself was four. Then, not two years later, her sister, Jessica, was born (name inspiration: Jessica Rabbit; Claire Bender hadn’t been privy to that little piece of information until much later). Not far behind Jessica, in 1998, was Rose, who made her grand debut around the time "Titanic" came out; one could guess who christened her. Four years later, in 2002, out popped Samantha. And now her mother was pregnant again. Dani would be sixteen years older than her youngest sibling. 

Crazy shit. It was like…whenever her dad *looked* at her mom, she fell pregnant. 

Gross. 

Speak of the Devil and he may appear…

From the master bedroom at the top of the stairs, Dani’s dad came thundering down the carpeted staircase, dressed as usual in his work “uniform” of jeans, a tee, boots, and a flannel shirt tied around his waist. Hilariously, he looked pretty much the same as he had in all those photos she’d perused of early life with her parents in the photo album her mother had diligently put together some time back. Longish brown hair. Olive-toned skin. Same toffee-colored eyes Dani herself possessed. Only major difference from then and now—sometimes, he had to wear glasses. At first, once the eye doctor diagnosed his astigmatism, he’d stubbornly refused to wear them and would intentionally leave the pair of square-lens “nerdwear”, as he called them, in arbitrary places around the house. On top of the bathroom sink. In the refrigerator. Under their nearly fifteen-year-old basset hound’s food bowl. 

He only grudgingly acquiesced to her mother’s begging that he actually wear the things after he smashed the car headlong into a Dumpster. 

He tried to stick to contacts. At least on the job. “Can’t have these things fallin’ off when I’m drilling holes in a wall.” He had a point.

The younger girls clambered to greet their father as he staggered into the kitchen, calling his name—well, “Daddy!”, in any event—pulling on his clothes, grinning gap-toothed smiles, standing on tippy-toes. One brunette. One redhead. One blonde. All barefoot. 

“Whoa! Jesus. How can you three be so animated this early in the morning? You don’t even drink coffee yet!” 

Jessica, Rose, and Samantha Bender looked at each other and simultaneously grimaced. 

John Bender pulled open the fridge, scanned the contents, and grabbed a Red Bull. Dani shook her head. They damn near bought *stock* in Red Bull every year; her father was a big fan. Said the stuff kept him awake at work. Or something. At least it didn’t give him wings. 

“How’s the first-born?” he continued as he popped open the can. Dani sat down with her yogurt at the breakfast island. Her mom sailed by to deliver a plate of circumspect blueberry pancakes. 

Dani prodded the browned cakes with her fork. Twice. “I’ve gotta test today. Third period. Trigonometry.”

Dani’s father made a face, and her sisters giggled. “Ugh. I hate trigonometry. I could care less about trigonometry. I promise you, Dani, it won’t help a damn thing in the real world unless you become, like, a mathematician. Or a lamp-maker, apparently.” 

Claire Bender lightly whacked her husband in the back of the head. “John! You’re supposed to encourage her.”

He turned in his stool. “I am! Honesty *is* encouragement, Cherry.”

From the oak kitchen table, ten-year-old Jessica cocked her dark head and asked why their father called their mother “Cherry”. “Is it ‘cause she has red hair?”

Their parents exchanged glances. Dani rolled her eyes. She knew, expressly knew, why her mother’s nickname was Cherry in John Bender’s eyes; her dad had confessed it once in a drunken stupor when she was thirteen. A moment in time she’d prefer to mis-remember. 

The tips of Mom’s ears went red. She cleared her throat, then returned to the stove. 

“Uh,” her father stumbled, poking at his pancakes with his fork. “…yeahhhhhhh. That’s it.”

“But Rosie’s got red hair, too, and you don’t call *her* that. And so does Dani!” 

Dad cleared his throat, very obviously buying time. Dani was enjoying watching him squirm. “…Rose’s name reflects her hair already. And, uh, there can only be one…Cherry…” 

“Why?”

“…because I say so.” 

“But *why*?” 

“Just because! Eat your pancakes!” 

Dani almost choked on her yogurt. Her father scowled at her. 

The heavily pregnant Claire Bender, rounded at nearly nine full months, draped in a black floral knee-length dress with her ginger hair piled haphazardly at the back of her head in a messy bun, remained cooking at the stove despite Dani’s, her father’s, and the doctor’s pleas for her to take it easy. Her mother was restless and when she was restless, her stubborn streak manifested tenfold. Especially when someone told her not to do something. Her reasoning? “I pushed out six kids just this way, and everything was fine, wasn’t it?” 

Mom handed off a plate to the still half-asleep Chris as he stumbled into the kitchen. He continued to wear the same Ninja Turtles t-shirt and boxers he’d slept in. Since he and Kelly, literal MENSA-certified geniuses (as if Kelly needed *those* bragging rights), went to this fancy-schmancy private school in Winnetka Grandpa Richard paid to send them to instead of Shermer, their school-day didn’t start until 9:30, as opposed to 8:20 for the rest of the Bender brood. So Chris, damn him, could lounge around in his pajamas for an extra hour. 

“Where’s your sister?”

Chris snorted and bit into a pancake without using a fork. Sometimes, Dani couldn’t believe he was a genius. “Beautifying herself, as always.” 

Dani huffed and crossed her arms over her Henley. “She was in the bathroom forever! What *else* could she possibly be doing?!” 

Dad scoffed, bite of scorched pancake halfway to his mouth. “Probably touching up those roots.”

Admittedly, Dani had a hard time holding in her smirk, low-blow or no low-blow. Technically, Chris and Kelly were fraternal, though they looked pretty damn identical; they had both grown up with the same fire engine red hair, the same ivory complexions, the same soft freckles. Kelly, however—the youngest of the two by seven whole minutes—developed an increasingly stubborn desire to stand out. Dani couldn’t exactly blame her; she and Chris were eerily alike. Growing up, they could finish each other’s sentences. Could feel each other’s pain. Could not stand to be separated for more than a few hours. It was whacked. Not to mention that they excelled at all of the same things—which was *most* things. Both had garnered the same scores on their MENSA tests, which Grandpa Richard had ordered proctored to them after they did his *taxes* for him at seven. 

The “totally identical” thing had been cute for a few years, but Kelly grew restless sometime around the fourth grade. Started experimenting with fashion and makeup and all that. Even went through a brief goth phase (“Thank *God* that’s over,” Mom had said when Kelly tromped down the stairs one morning in purple). Then, six months previous, apparently tired of her red locks and translucent skin, she begged her parents to let her dye her hair. It took some *major* convincing, but ultimately, their…Nora took her not-granddaughter to her trusted stylist, Umberto. Their mom’s only stipulation:absolutely no bleach. 

Kelly had returned home with her hair dyed a sort of dark honey blonde, her skin Mystiked a few shades closer to orange, and her short, square nails tipped with pink acrylics. And Mom couldn’t say boo about it because 1) she hadn’t stipulated exactly what she could and could not do or have other than the bleach and 2) she’d had acrylics done at that age, too. 

Their dad, though, had blown a fuse. 

“Who the hell are you?! ‘Cause…you’re *certainly* not Kelly. Must be some wannabe Disney star, and if you’re tryin’ out, this is Shermer, not L.A.” 

That made Dani’s sister explode in tears and lock herself away in their bedroom. Dad sighed and apologized. He hated apologizing. 

Thus, Dad had learned to live with Kelly’s new…persona. But he sure as hell didn’t *like* it. He’d gotten used to his “wolf pack of redheads” over the years. John Bender wasn’t big on change. 

Kelly breezed down the stairs in her Lakeview Prep uniform—dark green and burgundy skirt with its sharp as knives pleats, ruffled white blousy oxford, burgundy jacket with the golden Lakeview crest of two gyrfalcons back to back and a gothic letter L etched below the lapel, matching burgundy knee socks, and shiny black “dress shoes”; she and Chris looked like wrapped Christmas presents every morning—dark blonde hair held back with a green headband. Pearl studs in her ears. Lips all glossy and sparkly with that pink shit she liked. Exposed skin artificially tanned. 

As she ventured into the dining room, the bright smile on her face slowly vanished when she realized everyone staring at her. A hand rose to palm her cheek. “What? Do I have something on my face?” 

Dad and Chris burst out laughing.   
**  
And then, everything went tits up.

In Dani’s world, anyway. 

It was lunchtime. She had fourth period lunch, which meant that she ate at 11:15. Every student at Shermer either had fourth, fifth, or sixth period lunch. It used to be just fifth and sixth, less absurd times of the day to consume the “midday” meal, but, with the overcrowding the school district was experiencing these days, it was enough for Dani and her friends to even find a table that could accommodate them all. 

Then, there was the wait in line for food down the middle of the crowded cafeteria, that was always a fun time. It usually took at least fifteen minutes to get food, so a student had a half hour to eat if she was lucky. Sighing in aggravation, Dani lined up behind Janis Ian. Her friend, Damian, sneered at her tapping sneaker, and Dani halted automatically. 

Beside her, Dani’s best friend, Denise, giggled. “At least he’s not Regina George?” 

In response, Dani’s eyes broadened comically wide; Denise’s laughter increased. “Don’t say that!” she whispered, unobtrusively-obtrusively glancing from side to side. “She’ll *hear* you.”

“I think she eats outside on Fridays, right?”

“Say the Devil’s name and She may appear.” To emphasize her point, Dani crossed herself. Denise giggled some more. 

The line quickly began to fill out behind them, as Dani knew it would. The caf was so overcrowded, the lunch line was generally out the double cafeteria doors by—she checked the face clock on the wall—11:23. She could only be thankful that she wasn’t stuck behind that kid who farted a lot. 

Dani checked her watch. It was pizza day; she wanted some Domino’s. And cheese fries. Never mind that the “cheese” wasn’t actually cheese but more of a pseudo-cheese. Her taste buds had grown to like it.

And then…there came the distinct--*distinct*--sensation of her butt being pinched between two *very* greasy fingers, Denise gasped, Dani whirled around, shocked, to face a grinning Bobby Ridgeway in his stupid blue and gray letterman’s jacket and his stupid so-blond-it-was-nearly-silver crewcut and his stupid barely visible goatee and promptly, wordlessly kicked him in the family jewels. 

Immediately following, the only sounds were Denise breaking up in laughter, makeshift cafeteria aide/Coach Kay’s shrill whistle, the dull roar of her fellow fourth period lunchmates as they guffawed, and the squeak of Bobby Ridgeway’s sneakers whilst he went down, moaning all the while.

Coach Kay, who could be a Chyna cosplayer, led her without argument away from the cafeteria. Hands behind her back. Like a frigging prisoner. 

Gr-eat. 

**  
Principal Vernon’s office was a shoebox of a room down the hallway from the library. Last time her mom had been to good, old Shermer High—just earlier this month, for Back to School Night—she’d peeked inside here and remarked that it pretty much looked the exactly the same as it had twenty years previous. Cinderblock walls, check. Wardrobe in the corner, check. Tin desk, check. Perverted swimsuit calendar blatantly on display, check. Only major difference was the paint job—the walls were now a sort of icky sea foam green hue. And the pervo calendar was “Baywatch” themed, not “Sports Illustrated”. Still totally objectifying. 

Ugh. Denise would have a field day. She was the president of the Women First Club. 

Principal Vernon entered the squeaky door and slammed it shut behind him. He did not look pleased. Dude had always had it out for her. Something to do with her dad when he went here. Which wasn’t *way* unfair or anything. 

He glowered at her from across his cheap ass desk, across the piles and piles of loose papers and disorganized input and output baskets and haphazard picture frames. Dani attempted a sheepish smile, her face half-buried in her shoulders. 

Vernon, his once salt-and-pepper hair now completely salt, dressed in a dark blue leisure suit and green tie, didn’t take his narrowed eyes off her whilst he reached for a manila folder laid facedown atop the desk. 

Dani pasted the brightest grin she could muster upon her lips. Vernon’s glower deepened. 

“*Bender* comma Danielle Jane,” he recited, as though he hadn’t known who she was before now. When he certainly had. Scanning the printout before him, clutched in slightly shaking hands, he tsked, tsked, tsked and shook his gray head. “I’ve been expecting you, Miss Bender, I must say.” 

Dani leaned back in the uncomfortable nylon chair. ‘Jeez, for how much Grandpa donates to this place, they can afford better seats.’ “Darn. And here I was hoping to surprise you.” A beat. “Dick.”

Couldn’t be helped. She *was* her father’s daughter, after all. 

Dick—Principal Vernon—scowled deeper and crumpled the piece of paper in his angry, veiny fist. Bracing both palms flat on top of his desk, he pushed himself forward. Dani could smell the tuna fish salad sandwich he’d eaten for lunch. “Now, you listen here, missy! I make $70,000/year, and I have a home, and—“ 

“—you’re not gonna throw it away on a punk like me, I know.” Yawning for effect, Dani twirled a strand of auburn hair around her finger. “Knock my dad’s dick in the dirt yet?”

Vernon’s glare turned to ice. “You’re just like your old man!” 

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t meant to be a compliment!”

“Was to me.” 

Vernon fisted his hands and exclaimed. Dani smirked tautly. She tried not to mouth off, really, she did, but…Vernon was so *easy*.

Her principal slammed his big blue butt back in his seat. Folded his hands over his desk. His shoulders shook. The skin of his face was mottled. The tips of his ears were pink. It was delightful. 

“You’ve had *quite* a few after-school detentions, Miss Bender.” 

Dani shrugged. So, she’d chocked up a bit of a…”record”. She’d managed to convince her mother that half of those after-schools were play rehearsals—Dani was big into the drama scene, much to her mom’s initial disappointment (she had hoped that she would follow in her earlier footsteps and join the cheerleading squad) and her dad’s continued bewilderment, though they both faithfully attended her every performance—however whether Dad managed to buy her excuses was still up in the air. 

She still kept up her GPA, good attendance record, class participation, all that crap, so her parents—Mom, mainly; Dad thought it all to be hilarious—let the occasional delinquency slide. 

“But *somehow*,” Principal Vernon went on in a biting tone of voice. “You’ve managed to squeeze out of any Saturdays.” 

*Somehow*. He knew how. And his name was Grandpa Richard Standish. 

A slow, Grinch-like grin enveloped Vernon’s features, and Dani felt her stomach drop. “Well, no longer. You used violence, Miss Bender. That’s certainly grounds for a Saturday. Not even your grandfather can get you out of that!” Eyes like flying saucers in her head, Dani could only watch whilst You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch reached for a pink pad of paper amidst the mess on his desk, scribbled down her name, tomorrow’s date, “7:40 A.M.”, and “library”, as well as the reason he was assigning her detention, ripped off the front piece with a flourish, and passed it to her with an eager grin. 

Pursing her lips, she took the offending detention slip between two fingertips, as if it were diseased, contagious, pushed herself up, and stomped out of the office. Vernon’s cackles trailed her as the slammed the heavy metal door behind her.

**  
“You’re gonna get in troub-le!” her cousin, Nick Patz-Standish, crowed, a sing-song lilt to his voice. Dani’s uncles, (Clarence) Josh and Mikkel, had adopted him when they were both three. Though he lived in Evanston, he insisted on going to Shermer with his “favorite cousin”. 

‘Favorite cousin to troll the crap out of, more like.’ 

After school let out, Dani, Nick, and Denise were walking back to Hughes Street, where two out of the three lived. Cousin Nick sometimes crashed in his aunt and uncle’s already overflowing house for the hell of it; he definitely wasn’t missing out on *this*. 

Denise furrowed her pert nose. “Um, hello? You’re his nephew, haven’t you *met* her dad?” 

Nick shrugged and popped a gummy worm in his mouth. “Uncle John won’t give a crap. Shit, he’ll probably laugh. Aunt Claire, though…” 

Dani groaned and intentionally slowed her pace so that her cousin and best friend walked on ahead of her. Denise doubled back and pushed her on ahead. “Come on, Marie-Antoinette. Time to face the music.” 

Nick chuckled around the gummy worm. “You mean the guillotine.” A pause. “Ha! The Claire-o—tine. I kill me.” 

Denise shook her dark, curly hair. “Someone take off *his* head. Please!”

Inside, Dani straight collided with three-year-old blonde moppet Samantha as she belted out the lyrics to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” and leaped off a nearby couch, beating her chest like Tarzan. Dani steadied her, taking her youngest sister at the biceps, but said nothing more, merely watched her grin and scamper off with a long, slow blink and a small guffaw. Her home was pure anarchy. 

At three, Sami, in pre-K, only remained in class until 12:30. The high school let out earlier than the middle school or any of the elementary schools, and Chris and Kelly’s hoity-toity private school’s day didn’t end until 3:45. Claire and John Bender had an hour or so left of relative peace. 

Peace that Dani was about to HULK SMASH. 

Exhaling through her nose, Dani hung up her denim jacket on the wooden coat tree by the door, plopped her knapsack beside the couch, and trudged toward the dining room. Her mom was in the kitchen arranging an after-school snack for Dani and her friends. Her dad was using his day off to…it looked like he was reading the comics at the dining room table. 

As she approached them, she could hear her heart hammering in her ribcage. Denise’s and Nick’s resounding giggles sounded somehow amplified, and Dani shot them dirty glares over her shoulder.

Dani peered around the corner of the kitchen, hands braced against the breakfast island. Without looking, Mom passed her a plate of sliced apple wedges and a glass serving dish of peanut butter. “I know you guys prefer chocolate everything, but I can’t bring myself to rot all your teeth out just yet.” 

Dani hesitantly took the proffered plate, the cold metal pressing against her chest. “Um. Thanks, Mom. I, er, have some news…” 

Best just to rip it off. Like a Band-Aid. Right?

Right. 

Dad took a very large bite of banana, devouring half the thing at once. “Wha’? ‘Ad ‘Ay?” 

Her mother rolled her eyes. “What he means is, how did your test go?”

Dani blinked. Oh, that stupid exam. “Oh! That went fine, I got a B. Somehow.” Math, in any form, was not her favorite subject. “No, um, that’s not…exactly it…” 

Finishing wiping down the counter, Claire Bender placed both hands on her growing hips, one of which clutched a dirty beige rag. “Well, then what is ‘exactly it’?” 

“Yeah, Dani,” Nick hooted from his seat on the couch beneath the living room window. His feet were resting atop the coffee table. “Tell us what, exactly, ‘it’ is!” 

Mom didn’t bother looking at him. “Nick, feet off.”

“Aww, but Uncle John does it!”

Claire pursed her lips. “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

From his seat at the table, Dad scoffed and lowered his paper. “Hey! I’m not old! I’m…” Mentally, he appeared to be calculating the math, even though he’d *just* had a birthday. “38. Yeah, that’s right. 38. Jesus, I’m only two years away from forty…” 

Disregarding her husband, Dani’s mother turned back to consider her, lifting a red eyebrow. “Well?”

She knew that expression. That was Claire’s “And what did you do this time, young lady?” face. 

Drawing invisible circles with the toe of her shoe, a nervous habit from childhood, Dani managed to paint a semblance of an innocuous smile on her face before blurting out, “I got detention!” and for a second, just a second, the drop of a pin could be discerned…

…to be broken only by Sami running through the living room at top speed and crash-landing into a lamp. “Ow! Mama! Mama!!” 

“*Another one*?! Oh!” Claire Bender exclaimed while her husband erupted in laughter at the sight of the little blonde girl sprawled on the floor with a wide black lampshade concealing her entire head. “We’ll talk about this *later*, Danielle,” her mother added over her shoulder whilst she bent to retrieve her wayward youngest sibling, and Dani knew by her tone that she was toast. 

Judging by Nick and Denise’s shared amused glance, so did they. 

Before Dani could escape upstairs with her friends, Dad clambered out of his chair while Mom was leading a sobbing Sami into the bathroom, plopped himself down on the couch between his nephew and Denise, and leaned forward eagerly. He wanted the gossip. Her father had turned into a real natter over the years. “Like a little old lady having a coffee klatch with her besties.” She could hear her Uncle Andy’s drone in the back of her head now. 

“Well? Come on, out with it! Whaddya do?” He sat yet further forward, eyelashes fluttering. 

Nick pretended to cough. “BobbyRidgeway’sBalls.” 

Dani threw a glower at him her Aunt Allison would approve of. Denise whapped him with a throw pillow. 

John blinked. “Gesundheit?” 

Sighing, Dani sank down atop the coffee table, hands buried in her thick auburn hair. “I got Saturday detention, okay?!” 

Once more, her father blinked. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but the flagrant, unconcealed glee on his face was certainly…not it. His ensuing amusement, though, *that* was more his style. Lips widening in a grin, he balanced his cheek in his palm, braced an arm on his knee, and asked, plainly entertained, “What’d ya do?”

Her best friend—perhaps former best friend now—answered before Dani had a chance to. Damn her! 

“She kicked Bobby Ridgeway in the nuts,” Denise supplied, giggling. Dani scowled. 

Dad, instantly, roared in laughter. Like, rolling off the couch, tears streaming down his cheeks, beating the floor with his palm laughter. Their old basset hound—whom Dani had christened Little Foot after that cartoon dinosaur in “The Land Before Time” when she was just a baby—climbed to his very not little feet, pushed himself off his favorite brown cushion, waddled over to where her—their, she figured—father lay sprawled on the floor in hysterics, and gave him a good sniff. Little Foot was curious about anything or anyone that was even lower to the ground than he was. 

“Ugh,” John Bender muttered as the dog licked the side of his face with his long pink dog’s tongue. “Didn’t you just lick your own ass? You’re disgusting.” 

Little Foot didn’t seem to care, giving him one more lick before wandering back to his cushion and falling asleep. 

Nick shook his blond head. “Dog is old.”

Dani instantly bristled. He wasn’t *that* old! He was just…venerable. “Basset hounds live a long time!” 

Her cousin folded his arms over his orange t-shirt. “Still. Old.” 

Dad pushed himself up off the floor and back to his feet, staring down at her from the mere inch or two he had on her. The lack of real height disparity never ceased to annoy him, which amused Dani greatly. She had inherited her mother’s height—and surpassed it, at five feet, nine inches. Claire always grumbled that this was Dani’s father’s fault, seeing as he “made big babies”. 

Gross. Gross! 

One corner of Dad’s mouth ticked, eyes glittering in gaiety. “Kicked some kid in the huevos, did you? Hope he deserved it ‘cause otherwise…poor guy.” 

“Oh, he deserved it, all right,” Denise intercepted, defending her. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t kill her, then. Jeering, her dark eyebrows came down over her nearly black irises. “He totally groped Dani in the lunch line!” 

Just like that, the tickled smirk came crashing down—so abruptly, she could almost hear it as it was happening. John glowered, eyes narrowing dangerously, like icicles. Fists clenched at his sides. Pulse point pounding in the side of his neck. Her father rarely directed that look at her, or at any of her siblings, but when he did, hell hath fury. 

John Bender stuffed one hand inside the right pocket of his jeans. The other remained a fist at his side. “…this kid *groped* you?!”

Dani’s pillowy red lips compressed together as though she tasted something foul. “He pinched my butt. So, I kicked him in the balls.” 

Dad nodded once. “Good. Hope he bled. Or broke somethin’. Little prick.” A pause. “Heh. Literally.” 

Pulling the crumpled pink detention slip out of her jeans pocket, she passed it to her father. “Vernon still gave me Saturday detention, though. For tomorrow. I need to be in the library by 7:40.”

Her father scanned the wrinkled slip of paper and snorted. “Still using the same old detention slips. Dick sure is a creature of habit, ain’t he? Ah, well. We’ll drop ya off.” 

Dani kicked at the thrift store-find rug beneath the coffee table with the toe of her sneaker. “You can’t get me out of it?” By ‘you’, of course, she meant “Grandpa Richard”. 

John quirked an eyebrow. “And tell your Gramps that you kicked some dude in the nuts? You *know* your gran—Nora will find out, and she’ll accuse me of ‘rubbing off on you’. And then I’ll never hear the end of it. You want me to endure that bullshit?” 

She winced. A sort of…stalemate existed between her father and not-grandmother these days. But Dani was very privy to the fact that, when she was much younger, the animosity betwixt them had been way worse. Nora had always considered John, who did not exactly grow up among the Shermer social elite like Dani’s mother had, to be beneath her daughter—like, *way* beneath. Tensions between them cooled off quite a bit after Dani’s grandfather—who was purported to be heinous, and she’d grown up hearing stories that confirmed this—was thrown in prison when she was a baby. But…Nora was Nora. And always would be. 

Dani loved her not-grandmother, of course she did. But she was under no delusions that the woman wasn’t an elitist asshole…and likely always would be.

Tying her arms behind her back, Dani pouted. “No…but, Dad! That means I’ll have to sit through detention for *eight hours*! On a *Saturday*!”

John Bender chuckled. “I’d say you should-a thought of that before your foot met that kid’s huevos, but the creep deserved it and then some. It’s just one Saturday, kid. It’ll be all right. It’s character-building! Hey, I met your ma in one!”

*That* would be an interesting plot line for that new show “How I Met Your Mother”. “Well, kids, I stumbled upon your mother in detention one Saturday! We were there ‘cause we were both young delinquents, you see. Your mother skipped school to go shopping and got caught. I, uh, pulled the fire alarm. I think they’re funny, can’t help myself!” 

Groaning, Dani threw herself on the couch beside Denise. “How am I going to tell her, anyway?” Her best friend comfortingly patted her arm in a “there, there” gesture. 

“You leave your ma to me. She’ll get over it.”  
**  
Claire did not get over it. 

Not at first, anyway. Initially, she exploded, conveniently forgetting that she herself had been the recipient of quite a few Saturdays after falling in line and love with John Bender, and often in a voluntary capacity in order to keep him company. For a full five minutes, Mama Redhead went on and on about Dani’s permanent record and how this would impact her college transcripts and her GPA could take a hit and what was *wrong* with you, young lady?!

And that was when Dad to the Rescue stepped in and effectively calmed his wife, overly hysterical due to nine months of pregnancy hormones, before she blew a gasket and found herself going into premature labor or something. Soothingly—in a tone he rarely used, at least not in Dani’s recollection—he gripped Mom by the shoulders and informed her, without preamble, of what *actually* occurred. What had *really* landed Bender comma Danielle Jane in Saturday detention and not what was just scribbled on the pink slip in Vernon’s atrocious handwriting—I.E., “display of violence”. 

“…and then, the freak harassed her in the lunch line!” 

The angry, mottled red in Claire Bender’s face was beginning to vanish, the taut tension around her mouth and eyes loosening. As well as the fists her hands formed at her sides. Her gaze ticked to her daughter standing a little ways behind her husband. “He *harassed* you?!”

Dani pushed her hair behind her ears and nodded. “Pinched my butt. So…I kicked him in the balls.” 

Dad sputtered some more. He never grew tired of hearing that, it seemed. 

Her mother’s expression was pinched, if reluctantly amused. “Well. In that case, you were just defending yourself! We should refute this! This is a miscarriage of justice!”

Dani sighed. She had already come to accept her Saturdayless fate. “I ‘used violence’, remember? Shermer has a no-tolerance policy. Besides, Dad’s right.” Vaguely, she gestured beside her to her father. “If Nora finds out, she’ll never let him forget it.” 

Claire pursed her lips, silently agreeing with that. “So…library?” 

“Library. 7:40 A.M. tomorrow.”

“At least Vernon shouldn’t be overseeing anymore?” Dad suggested with a hopeful smile. “He’s the principal now. He’s gotta have, like, ‘people’ for that shit or something by now!”  
**

When Dani was still a little baby, and still the designated Only Child, Dad had possessed a wicked black Trans-Am with red leather interior and a flame design licking the doors and the top of the hood. She knew because there existed *many* photos of her father posing next to the thing as if it were a living, breathing creature. His Harley, too, which he actually still possessed. 

Before Chris and Kelly were born, though, he’d had to trade the Trans-Am in for something a bit more kid-friendly. Initially, he ventured home with a crappy powder blue ’82 Buick he picked up off the local used car lot for two-hundred bucks. One that, according to both him and Mom, was impossible to steer and rode like a refrigerator on wheels. 

The family ended up going through a whole shitload of “family cars” before ultimately settling on the green Jeep Cherokee Dani was now riding in. Her father absolutely, wholly refused to ever consider purchasing a minivan no matter how many kids they had. 

Dad pulled the into the lot and idled it before the steps leading inside the overgrown cinderblock that formed Shermer High School. Grumpy, Dani glanced at her mucho extravagant gold Rolex, a Sweet Sixteen gift from Grandpa Richard. 7:27. Great. 

John Bender turned around in the driver’s seat, grinning. The thick-lens glasses did not make him look any less the smartass. “This is your stop, kid.”

Dani groaned and banged her head against the window. 

Mom was peering out the side of her own door. “Jeez, really can't believe it still looks exactly the same. Except for that loudspeaker in the front.” 

Visitors had to announce themselves in the loudspeaker planted out in the front courtyard now, as ordained by Superintendent Rooney. 

“We have metal detectors at the doors, too,” Dani muttered without inflection. “Kinda dumb ‘cause anyone can just go in through another door if they intend to bring in a weapon or something.”

“No one can ever accuse either Vernon or Rooney of being geniuses.” 

Her mother passed her a paper bag. Lunch, she figured. Reluctantly, Dani took it, listening to the paper crinkle beneath her fingers, and poured herself out of the car. 

In the library—which, she had to admit, was probably one of the nicer places in the whole building—she was momentarily frozen in surprise at the entrance, all the eyes looking at her in lackadaisical greeting, until recollection washed over her. The middle school library was being redone, so Shermer Middle’s Saturday detentions were being held here, too, for the foreseeable future until it was finished. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who you asked), that meant there were some faces Dani recognized.

Right away, she spotted the eleven-year-old Johnson twins, Sandra and Ruth, whose parents, her Uncle Brian and Aunt Jackie, had named them after the first two women Supreme Court Justices, Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg. While they very much took after their mother in looks, there was some of Brian in there, too, particularly in the need for braces. Barely in puberty, they already knew all the moons of all the planets and could recite the periodic table by heart; they were definitely their parents’ daughters. And not for nothin’, Sandra and Ruth were damn near interchangeable; she could never tell one from the other and had no idea how her mother did it. Her dad sure couldn’t. 

Why they were in here, however, she had no idea. Probably blew up a chemistry lab.

Seated at the table directly beside theirs was someone she instantly recognized—Malcolm Carter, her brother’s best friend and the son of her father’s best friend growing up, Ty. Sitting there with his red Converse crossed on the tabletop, his hands pillowed behind his head, that same smartass smirk on his face that matched his father’s exactly, he was pretty much why Chris was seriously considering transferring out of Lakeview next semester. He wanted to cause trouble with his buddy. 

Her dad and Malcolm’s called them John-and-Ty-Reborn.

Just behind Malcolm Carter was twelve-year-old Tyler Clark. Only a week younger than Chris and Kelly, he favored his father, Dani’s Uncle Andy, in looks but took after his mother, her Aunt Allison, otherwise. He wasn’t much at sports, any sports, unless one counted e-games, he really dug the Sims, and he was quite arty. He was vice-president of the Junior Artists and Sculptors of Shermer Association. His parents were proud. Andy had thrown a party when he won.

Tyler had a wee bit of a crush on her. More than a wee. He was a nice kid but four years her junior and not exactly her type even *if* their age difference wasn’t really, really skeevy. Dad thought the whole awkward situation to be hysterical, obviously, while it just made Mom and Allison uncomfortable. 

As for Uncle Andy, the harder Dad laughed, the more he encouraged his son to “never let go”. And she wasn’t even the Rose in this family! 

The last face she could reconcile belonged to Mr. Bueller’s, the school guidance councilor’s, daughter. Amanda Bueller’s mother, Sloane, was a particular friend of her own mom’s and popped ‘round the house often in her expensive leather jackets and just as expensive leather boots and shiny brown hair. The Buellers’ daughter was the spitting image of her mother, with the curly hair and a mischievous twinkle in her eye of her father. And, judging by the loud, bright clothing, his sense of style, too. 

The only other two students in attendance were her own age—a dark-haired girl in an “I’d rather be in Paris” graphic t-shirt popping a piece of gum and a blond boy cleaning his skateboard with a dirty red rag.

Dani scrambled for a seat just as Vernon breezed in through the double doors to the library like he owned the place. ‘So much for having “people” for this.’ “Well, well, well. Here we all are. I suppose it’s time to take attendance.” Gazing down at a clipboard in his hands, he didn’t once glance up as he read off the names. “Aarons-comma-Jennifer.” 

Gum-popping girl raised one tanned, acrylicked hand. 

“Bender-comma-Danielle. Oh, great.”

Dani pasted the world’s phoniest smile upon her face. “Well, sir. You *did* put me in here.”

Vernon sighed. “Mr. Kravitz was supposed to be watching you all today, but he got…held up. So, now I’m stuck with a bunch of snot-nosed *brats* on a Saturday, one of them being John Bender’s spawn…” Dick shook his head, like a wet dog, as though shaking himself out of his reverie. “Moving *on*. Bueller-comma-Amanda. My *favorite* faculty member’s daughter, I presume.” 

Amanda plucked the red lollipop she’d been sucking out of her mouth. “You presume correct, sir! By the by, Dad asked me to ask you to pass along his regards to Superintendent Rooney.” 

Vernon scowled. Dani snickered. 

“Carter-comma-Malcolm—“

“Right here, Principal Vernon, sir!” Malcolm Carter exclaimed with a mock-salute, Converse-clad feet hanging over the edge of the library table. 

“Get your feet off the table, Mr. Carter.” 

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

“Clark-comma-Tyler.”

A tad meekly, Allison and Andy’s progeny raised his hand, shining blond hair patted down with out-of-date pomade and combed to one side, eyes shielded behind wire-rim glasses, clad in a checked polo tucked into khaki Dockers. He was very much Uncle Andy’s opposite, but her father’s friend refused to try and change him. 

When his watery blue eyes landed on Dani, they lit up a few shades, and she ducked down in her seat, embarrassed. Malcolm Carter chuckled audibly and hurled a wadded-up piece of paper at the stricken Clark’s neck. He glared. 

“Johnson-comma-Ruth and Johnson-comma-Sandra.”

“Here,” both Johnson twins intoned at once. Dani peered over her shoulder to see them fiddling with their calculators, not bothering to glance up once. 

Vernon sighed and stuck his fingers into his stark white hair. “Ladies, please put your calculators away. This is a no-technology zone!”

Dani’s gaze ticked toward the state of the art computer lab with its colorful, just-released Macs and sleek Lenovo PC laptops and scoffed. ‘Yeah, right. My ass.’ 

Ruth and Sandra glowered as though Vernon had just ordered them to give up their livelihoods. Reluctantly—bitingly, it appeared—they reverently placed the matching T-4s inside their blue Jansports. 

“Last but *certainly* not least, Keller-comma-Jaxon. Wonderful. All my *favorites* in one room. Aren’t I lucky?” 

The light-haired boy who’d previously been cleaning his skateboard grinned up at the principal. “It’s a dream come true, Principal Vernon. Heck, I’m jealous!” 

Vernon scowled and crossed his arms over his maroon-hued leisure suit. “I want no *funny business*! I’ll be just on the other side of that door!” Pointing askance to the closed library doors in question, the little man attempted a semblance of authority. In Dani’s opinion, it…wasn’t working. “That goes double for *you*, Mr. Keller. Miss *Bender*. Do we understand each other?” 

“Crystal,” Malcolm drawled, eyes half shut. 

Vernon pursed his lips. “I’d give you all an assignment to keep you brats from climbing the walls, but I know from experience you won’t do it properly.” Here, he glared directly at Dani, as if she had anything whatsoever to do with that statement. “So just…sit here and be quiet!” 

Malcolm slipped his feet back on top of the table as soon as Vernon cleared the library. 

Jaxon tapped Dani on the shoulder, nearly making her jump out of her chair. He was grinning as he leaned over the table, cheek in his palm like a gossiping schoolgirl. “So, Bender. What’re you in for?”

**  
At 3:55 P.M., John Bender waited. And waited and waited some more. Parked in the lot in the unnecessarily oversize Jeep Grand Cherokee, the radio blasting an 80s rock station, he happily and obliviously rocked out to Axl Rose growling about Paradise City, ignoring any curious by-passers peering through the windows and gawking at the weird middle-aged dude lip-syncing into a cigarette lighter and flashing the “rock on” hand. 

That all came to an abrupt halt when the doors to that fucking school opened and out hopped a bunch of kids he recognized. The Brainiacs’ mini-Brainiacs. Ty and Megan’s kid. Bueller the Younger. The Clark boy who was forever panting after Dani. Some teenage girl he didn’t know. And then his first-born herself…accompanied by a punk in one of those knit beanies, holding a *skateboard*. 

Motherfucking skateboard, oh, hell no. 

Narrowing his gaze, eyes as sharp as *tacks* even if he did have to wear these fucking glasses, thanks, John didn’t take his eyes off his daughter and the brat kid smirking at her whilst he lowered the music. Sorry, Axl, this was way more important. And, worse, Dani was *smiling* at him, too! She looked downright giddy as she climbed down those fucking stairs!

John damn near crushed that cigarette lighter between his fingers. 

As his daughter and the punk kid came to a stop before the Jeep, he had a flashback to twenty-one years ago, and his face went white. Oh, *fuck* no was this little twerp going to… But the kid only leaned in to kiss her *cheek* which was still what-the-FUCK-don’t-touch-my-daughter but at least he kept his lips off her..lips. 

Jesus.

But then, oh *then*, they were both rounding the left side of the Jeep and Dani was sticking her head in the window and smiling her patented “Daddy, please?” beam that she knew would get her anything and asking him if he could take this “Jaxon” home, he didn’t live far away from them, only on the next block over, pretty please with sugar on top, *Daddy*?! 

And John saw red but acquiesced anyway because she was his little girl and always would be but kept a damn *close watch* on that rearview mirror as they talked and giggled in the back. John was having a coronary. He was tempted to just dump the kid, this so-called “Jaxon Keller, I’ve heard a lot about you, sir, you’re a legend at Shermer” at the end of the block but, well, he *had* complimented him and fuck him if he wasn’t a sucker. John dropped him off in front of his house—some yellow thing on a hill—and tried not to crush the steering wheel as he turned the Jeep around. 

“Dad,” Dani drawled from the backseat. “Breathe.” 

John inhaled. Deeply. ‘Oh, yeah. I can still do that.’ “How long have you known that kid?”

Dani rolled her—his—eyes in the rearview mirror. “I just met him today, though I think he’s in my Bio class, too. Calm down. It’s not like I’m going to *marry* the guy. It’s just detention.” 

John Bender glanced down at his own ring finger and barked a laugh, taking the curve onto Hughes Street. “Right. Just detention. Sure.” 

The 80s station switched to Simple Minds.   
**

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: According to my friend Google, ball Pythons tend to live as long as 30 years, so Pete would still be alive and kickin'.
> 
> Note 2: Claire and John would be ones to name their kids after their favorite movies and characters. And fashion designers.
> 
> Note 3: The Bobby Ridgeway anecdote came directly out of Ten Things I Hate About You, a circa 1999 teen movie starring Julia Stiles and the late great Heath Ledger. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it very much. Kat (Julia) kicks Bobby Ridgeway in the balls for trying to grope her in the lunch line xD The 80s had some great teen movies, obvs, word up to our lord and master John Hughes but so did the following decade. Ten Things, Clueless, She's All That, Can't Hardly Wait, Get Over It. Man, that was the SHIT.
> 
> Note 4: Some great ones in the aughts, too. Shout out to Mean Girls, it was the only timely teen movie I could think of that took place in the Chicago burbs. I know it was Evanston but expand that mind! I also considered Never Been Kissed.
> 
> Note 5: My high school was so overcrowded we were a literal fire hazard and also had our lunch periods expanded for that reason. I had mine in fourth. It was earlier than 11:15, more like 10:25. Imagine eating lunch that early, that was weird.
> 
> Note 6: The oldest basset hound on record lived to his mid twenties. 
> 
> Note 7: "How I Met Your Mother" debuted in September 2005
> 
> Note 8: So far, there have been only four women in the US Supreme Court--Sandra Day O'Connor, Ruth Bader Ginsburg (AKA the Notorious RBG), Sonia Sotomayor, and Elena Kagan. Sandra was appointed by Reagan, Ruth by Clinton
> 
> Note 9: Sloane Peterson was at least partially inspired by producer Ned Tanen's daughter Sloane Tanen. She went by her middle name Amanda. So...Amanda Bueller!


End file.
